


Unlikely Mystical Sweethearts

by eegor_not_aigor



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Fluff, Pre-Canon, Pre-OT3, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 07:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eegor_not_aigor/pseuds/eegor_not_aigor
Summary: Lemony Snicket is in the middle of his transformation into a vampire. He is confused, distraught and melancholy. Fortunately, two well-intentioned people are willing to help him in such a difficult situation.





	Unlikely Mystical Sweethearts

When Lemony Snicket woke up at 3 in the morning and looked at himself in the mirror, he suddenly realised that he was somehow half way through becoming a vampire. “Vampire”, a word which here means “unable to go out during the day without a quite large umbrella due to the fear of burning to death, and presenting some uncanny-looking fangs that were not so big the day before”.  
At least that was what he expected the word to mean. He surely hoped it did not mean “a blood sucking freak that flies around biting people”.  
He was way more pale than he used to be, it was getting more and more difficult to sleep at night and stay awake during the day, and those fangs were growing faster than he would have expected. But that was not the only problem.  
The whole situation had everything set to turn into a disaster. Not only because of the still timid blood thirst that was getting bigger deep in his belly, but also because he had no idea what he was supposed to do about that. No one he knew was a vampire, he doubted he had ever met one, and the only information he had ever found about the subject was in pretty romanticized media that probably could not be considered trustworthy information.   
But obviously, just approaching someone on the street and asking to bite their neck was not even an option. That sounded gross and he was a vegetarian.  
That left Lemony with few options. Maybe he could lay down on his not-so-aesthetic-pleasing-as-a-coffin bed and dramatically wait for death to eventually come, but that sounded pretty boring. Maybe he could pray to God more often and drink more water, which seemed to magically cure every possible problem, but that did not sound effective.  
Fortunately, he could still contact VFD’s local specialist in bats, Beatrice Anwhistle.

His answer arrived via carrier pigeon, informing that they could meet by five in the afternoon, and an address followed, which he was glad for. They had known each other for a long time, but he could not say he knew much about her or where she lived -- although she, like any volunteer that had not spent the last few years under a rock, must know details about his life not even he was aware of --. They used to go to the same school before he had to move to Stain’d By The Sea, although they did not have any classes together because she was one year older. Now that he had re-appeared, he knew that she was still in the city and they met a few times, but not more than that.  
Maybe they were not even friends, just two people that would meet by accident once in a while, be happy to see each other, and talk excitedly about whatever was on their minds at the moment. He knew she had an interest in bats that started because the word “baticeer” was an anagram for her name, that she usually talked to herself out loud, and that her favorite play was Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. She knew that his favorite food was lemon meringue pie, that he kept a list of alphabetical insults and still did not find something better than “xylophone” to the letter x, and that he had read Anna Karenina more times than he could count.   
On the other hand, they did not know what each other’s favorite color was, if they had siblings or not, and had no idea about each other’s personal life in general.  
He knocked on her door and waited a little while staring awkwardly at the VFD eye insignia carved in it.   
“Isn’t it bad luck to open an umbrella when it’s not raining?”, Beatrice said instead of hello, as she opened the door and took a step aside to let him in. She had her hair tied up in a low ponytail, and for some reason she was wearing a simple but elegant blue dress, that did not quite match the clothes he had seen her wearing before.   
Then he realised that all the times they had met previously, it was either by accident or at school, and what he was seeing was probably her “had time to dress up” version.  
“It’s bad luck to open an umbrella inside”, he answered as he closed it, smiling to let her know it was not his intention to sound full of himself, “I just don’t want to burn to death, and it brings us to the reason I’m here”.  
“You were kicked out of your dorm and now is in desperate need of a roof above your head or else you’ll die from insolation?”. She closed the door behind them.  
“Not exactly…”, he started. It would be a long story.

“So, you’re telling me you have no idea how this happened?”  
He wanted to answer but it was a bit difficult now, since he had to keep his mouth open so she could give his teeth a proper look. It is pretty awkward to have someone touching your teeth, and that goes even worse if said person is not a dentist, but a baticeer you are really found of. She seemed to realize he could not talk with his mouth open and fingers on his teeth -- which proves she really was not a dentist, because that is exactly what dentists do not realize --, and stepped back, her hands on her pockets, so she could have his answer.  
It took Lemony a while to put his jaw bone back in place, which made him feel even more embarrassed.  
“No idea”, he agreed, “I mean, there are some unusual symptoms going on, but it can always be something else. I’m pretty sure no one has ever buried any fangs in my neck, so are you sure this is really what I think it is?”  
Beatrice told him that she was a baticeer, not a vampiceer, but for what she knew about her “flying babies”, that seemed to be the case, although you can never be totally sure about anything. Also, she explained that one does not necessarily need to be bitten by a vampire to turn into one -- she had once read about a girl in Germany who was turned after eating an infected apple, and also she was sure there was a way of cursing someone into it --.   
That was enough to convince Lemony to find everything he could about the subject -- not only gothic romance novels -- in the local libraries. Beatrice said she would do the same, since his situation made her curious about the theme.  
After some more well-spent minutes of conversation and bitter tea, which she had bought specially because he would come visit her -- “Don’t you usually have tea at home? I thought it was mandatory” “You know I prefer coffee” --, she asked him if he wanted to see some of the bat pups she kept there. If you have any doubts about his answer, please keep in mind that baby animals in general, as much as human babies, are mostly adorable and tend to bring up curious instincts in people, like the one that makes them say “aw” and threaten their target with “you’re so cute I could eat you up!”.  
“If some of them mysteriously disappear during nightime, I just want you to know I have nothing to do with that”, he whispered with a sweet smile on his face. The pups were still sleeping, wrapped in little blanket burritos, and he had to concentrate all his efforts into not running away with one of them to raise as his child.  
“Actually, if a kidnapper invaded this place to take them away, it would be way more intelligent to come during daytime, since bats are nocturnal and it’s easier to kidnap them while they’re sleeping”, she whispered back, and he said he would keep that in mind.  
By that time, she glanced at the clock on the wall and her eyes widened.   
“Lemony, I’m afraid you’ll have to go”  
“Why? You’ll turn back into a pumpkin?”, he answered, as she guided him to the door he came from.  
For a moment she stopped what she was doing -- which was looking for something inside a big folder while trying to open the door for him at the same time -- and seemed to remember something.  
“That’s it, pumpkin!”  
“Wait, what?”  
“Didn’t you say you were disgusted by the idea of drinking blood?”  
“Sure, but-”  
“That’s it, you can substitute blood in your diet if you know what kind of vegetables you would need! And what a pleasing coincidence that I am going to theater class right now!” She finally found what she was looking for in the folder. It was a script.  
“Bea, I can’t see where you’re-”  
“Our botanist, Bertrand, will be there tonight! So you should better grab that huge umbrella of yours, Snicket, because you’re going with me!”

During the time he spent in Stain’d By The Sea, Lemony created two main theories about Bertrand Baudelaire’s true personality. The first and more reasonable one consisted that Ms. Markson’s former apprentice was no more than just an average volunteer, and she refused to recognize his flaws like many people do when they like someone very much. But even though that made more sense, he liked the second one the best: Bertrand was, in fact, a cloth doll.   
It was not rational at all, but it worked for the same reason things usually look less scary if you imagine that everyone involved is naked. This way, he really stopped caring that much at some point. Everytime Ms. Markson -- or, after her, anyone else -- started talking endlessly about how Bertrand would never do that, say that or dress like that, the only thing Lemony could do was agree and smile to himself. “Of course Mr. Perfect would never do that”, he would think, “only haunted dolls move by themselves.”  
Now though, on his way to finally meet Bertrand Baudelaire in person, he slowly started to regret it all. It sure does not make a good first impression if you accidentally call the person you are meeting “Button Eyes”, “Dolly” or any other of the many nicknames Lemony made up back when he was twelve.  
Anyways, he sure was taken by surprise when they arrived. Not only because Bertrand looked pretty much like a human being, but also because he was not a theater student, like you would imagine. Bertrand was not re-reading the script or practicing his lines. He was off stage instead, building the sets. It was turning out pretty good, actually, and Lemony had to admit he was very talented.  
“Hey, Bert!”, Beatrice yelled, waving at him. She grabbed Lemony’s hand and pulled him with her as she walked closer.  
He waved back, smiling, and Lemony tried his best not to look nervous, or shocked, or like someone who imagines people as cloth dolls. It is difficult to pretend you’re not so many things at once, specially if you are the three of them, so he ended up looking like he was trying not to sneeze.  
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Bertrand said, “Bea talks about you all the time!”  
Lemony Snicket was used to people having already heard of him before they met for the first time. Apparently, one cannot (mysteriously) disappear into a (mysterious) forest after (mysteriously) murdering someone and causing a (mysterious) train wreck without becoming a urban legend of some kind. That said, people would usually create a mental image of him that was only based on what they had heard and, unless Lemony was secretly a bad boy that could breathe underwater, did not match reality at all.  
This way, he did not almost choke on thin air because Bertrand had already heard of him, but because he had heard it from Beatrice. He had shared embarrassing childhood stories with her, and he sure hoped Mr. Cloth-Skin did not know about that one time when he was eleven and hid into a broom closet with all the Vegetarian Fiber Dairy-free cookies he stole from the kitchen, but accidentally locked himself in and panicked. It took everyone a long time to finally help him out, since the other children assumed the closet was haunted when they heard him crying inside of it.  
Even though he did not exactly like it when people thought he was some sort of badass cryptid, he sure would rather Bertrand to think that instead of knowing about the broom closet story.

It took Beatrice and Lemony about two hours to explain everything. Not because they had much to say, but because Bertrand was quite a busy person. Although he insisted he had no idea what he was doing and decided to help with the sets just because he would be bored at home otherwise, everyone seemed to not only appreciate but also need his work.  
But finally, among many Bert-come-here’s, Bert-go-there’s, Bert-we-need-you-to’s and even one a-pretty-face-like-yours-should-be-onstage-not-off-it, Beatrice and Lemony managed to finish telling the story.  
“So, you’re turning into a vampire”  
“Yes”  
“And you will help him because you’re a baticeer”  
“Yes”  
“And you two are dating”  
“Wait, no!”  
“Oh, sorry, I noticed that you were holding hands and...”  
They were going to say they were not, but then they realize they actually were. They put their hands in their respective pockets, blushing and as they tried to remember how long they had been holding hands and wondering what everyone must be thinking.   
Bertrand felt almost as awkward as they did.  
Still not completely comfortable, they told him about Lemony’s blood-related problem and his wish of substituting it for something else.  
“You were the first person that came to my mind”, Beatrice said, “due to your large knowledge about plants and that sort of thing. I thought maybe you could give Lemony some advice, when you had the time, of course. But I admit I feel guilty for it now, seeing how much work to be done you have. Maybe you could just recommend us some books for our research list, it wasn’t our intention to annoy you.”  
Lemony nodded.  
“How dare you assume I’m not a dangerous workaholic, Beatrice Anwhistle?”, Bertrand said in a fake offended voice, “You know I’m here because I didn’t want to stay home counting flies. I’m going to the library with you two as soon as I finish this tree!”  
Bertrand did not stop at only one tree, Beatrice remembered the real reason for her to be there -- which was practicing the second act --, and as they both dispersed from their circle to do what they had to do, Lemony was left alone in a place full of noisy strangers. He hoped nobody would notice he was not part of the sets.

When the three of them finally left the theater, it was around ten in the afternoon and it was raining, which made them all glad that Lemony had to carry that huge umbrella around. As they walked to the library, pretty close to each other in order to make sure they would not catch any raindrops, Lemony was glad it was so dark outside because his face was beet red and he was not sure why.  
You, as a reader, may be wondering why they would even consider going to a library so late in the night, since most libraries would already be closed by the time they arrived. That is simply because they were not going to an ordinary place, but to a VFD library that, such as all other VFD places, worked twenty-four hours a day, in case a volunteer wakes up in the middle of the night desperately wanting to know a specific quote, which happens more often than it seems.  
The first thing they did was to ask the librarian for some pen and paper, so they could write down whatever they found important without vandalizing the books. Then, they decided to split up and search for whatever they thought could be useful. Of course they could have just asked for some help, as most people would do, but they had a few reasons for not doing so.   
First of all, they were not children anymore -- even though they now wondered if they had ever been --, and they knew it was not intelligent to drop such meaningful information when talking to strangers. Back when they were younger, they were told that it was always a good idea to ask a librarian for help, because librarians were in general noble people, and often noble volunteers. Now, there was no way to be sure, anyone could be a firestarter in disguise. Lemony contacted Beatrice because he knew she was a safe person to talk to, and Beatrice contacted Bertrand for the same reason. None of them wanted to think about what could happen if someone found out about Lemony’s condition.  
Also, wandering around among the books instead of just having them handed to you sounds way more like an adventure.  
About half an hour later, they met again to actually start their research. Beatrice had brought everything she found interesting about bats -- which was a lot -- and vampires in general. Bertrand had some interesting books about botany and genetics and “Homeol-” “Hematology” “And what the hell is that?” “It’s about blood, I thought it could be helpful”. And Lemony had brought everything he could find about vampirism that did not look like a horror story, a love story, or a mix of both.  
“That’s not a lot”, Beatrice said, giving a look to his pile of three books.  
“If I needed a gothic novel instead of trustworthy information, we would not have this problem”, he answered. It was not much, but it sure was way more than he had expected.  
After Beatrice told him to stop insulting gothic novels, they could finally start their research.  
By eleven, the three of them were very excited about their new discoveries. Two of their five pieces of paper were already filled with notes, they were all willing to share information and answer each other’s questions.  
By twelve, the trio had become more silent, a word which here means either “too concentrated on their readings” or “too sleepy to start a conversation”. Lemony found an interesting report about a woman that found out she had been infected after waking up from a coma with her memory completely lost, and he showed it to Beatrice, who was reading about vampire bats digestive system, because something about it was really troubling her and she did not know exactly what it was. Bertrand did not join them in their dialogue, because he had just thought of a really good idea. He wrote it down and hid in his pocket while the other two were not looking. Maybe it would turn out right, or maybe not, and he did not want to give them false hopes.  
By one in the morning, Bertrand had already fallen asleep, and for some reason there was a ribbon on the top of his head now, keeping his short hair away from his face. Beatrice, on the other hand, felt her eyelids becoming more and more heavy, but she did not want to fall asleep not only because they were on a library and not a hotel, but also because now she had an idea what she was looking for. Looking at how affected both of them were, Lemony, who would soon become completely nocturnal, started reading their books as well.  
When the clock showed two in the morning, the three of them were sleeping. Beatrice and Bertrand because thinking when it is past bedtime can be really exhausting, and Lemony because reading about botany when you know nothing about it can be really boring.

Beatrice was the first to wake up, when sunshine hit her face. After a first second of wondering where she was and how she got there, the first thing she did was to get up and walk to the window where the light was coming from. She closed the curtains, making sure they were completely shut.   
She did not want her friend Lemony to get some horrible sunburn. Not that she would ever want anyone to get a horrible sunburn, but this case was different because it was him. Even though they were not so close, she had a soft spot for him and the few times they met were enough to awaken some feelings.  
Lemony woke up with the sound of the curtains being shut, and he was already up when she came back. He was trying to organize the books so they could be returned to where they belonged. Also, she noticed that he had put his coat over Bertrand’s shoulders like a blanket.   
He noticed that she had noticed it.  
“W-well, it was the most noble thing to do”, he answered, before walking away with five books to be returned. He would have asked her for some help if he was not blushing like a strawberry in spring.  
Beatrice, confused, took some books to return as well and disappeared within the bookshelves.

When Bertrand woke up, he thought for a moment that his friends had left without him. He was about to start blaming himself for that, but he suddenly realized there was a coat placed over his shoulders and it was not his own. No one had ever done anything like this for him, and he was way too shocked to even react.  
Beatrice was the first to come back. He laughed a little and explained how, for a moment, he thought they had gone away without him.  
“That’s ridiculous, Bert, you’re not a forgettable person”  
“Do you really think so?”  
“Sure, how could we forget about someone with such remarkable hair?”, she laughed.  
He was confused for a second but then he remembered about the ribbon.  
“Oh, sorry”, he said, taking it off and passing his fingers through his hair, “This may sound dumb but it helps me think”  
“I wasn’t talking about your ribbon, silly, not at all. Actually it gives you quite a distinguished look”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, really. But right now your hair looks pretty post-apocalyptic. No, it’s not like that all the time, I’m pretty sure it’s because you just woke up. Come closer, I can fix it for you”  
She used her fingers to brush his hair -- which, she noticed, was soft and fluffy -- and tried to make it look as good as possible. It was not difficult, actually.  
“Now you give me your ribbon”  
“Why though?”  
“Like I said, it looks distinguished on you”

Before they left, they had to face a very angry librarian, who told them, among other things, that just because a place stays open 24/7 it does not mean you are supposed to sleep there, that she had done everything she could to wake them up but they were sleeping like three corpses, and that she was sick and tired of this new generation that had no respect for books.   
As she talked, the three of them answered with several “yes, ma’am”s and reminded themselves of continuing their research, as well as sleeping, somewhere else.

“I cannot believe both of you have to pay to properly see, that sounds like something from a dystopian novel.” Lemony said, after having tried on both Beatrice’s and Bertrand’s glasses and asking them what he looked like.   
They had been studying for almost two hours straight until the three of them agreed on taking a break to have some tea and rest their brains. Also, they needed to stop researching for a while to shake off the growing feeling that they were just running in circles, but of course none of them said it out loud.   
Lemony turned down the offer of a cup of tea though. Recently, his mind kept comparing everything he drank with blood, and that made him sick.  
“It’s not that bad”, Beatrice answered. She sipped her tea and strongly regretted not making some coffee for herself. “At least not for me. My sight is still decent without my glasses on, they are mainly for reading.”  
“I wish my eyes could be more like yours, once I went out without my glasses on and said ‘hi’ to a trash can”  
“And you still don’t think this is all part of some government conspiracy?” Lemony was only half joking. He would do some research about that in the future, just to make sure -- also, he would have to buy more red thread for his new conspiracy board --.

After more two exhausting hours of reading, they knew they had reached a dead end. Lemony could have been cursed by a witch, or bitten by someone -- “I thought I had made it clear that no one bit me!” “What if they erased your memory?” “With magic?” “Or hypnosis” --, or maybe he had died and came back from the grave -- “I’m sure I would remember that” --, or maybe he had been possessed by a demon -- “Seriously?” --. Or possibly he just had some infected root beer.   
The books were confusing and contradictory with each other to the point they could not even be sure whether Lemony could go out on the sunlight or not, or eat garlic, or wear anything but vintage clothing. But the worst part is that there were way more detailed recipes on how to kill a vampire or get rid of them than well-intentioned ideas on how to help one.  
After a while, Beatrice and Bertrand started trying to subtly distract Lemony from his reading, as they noticed tears in his eyes.   
Some awkward minutes later, they decided they could use some more cups of tea, to cheer up a little. As they thought about all the questions they had by the start of the research, they had a strong feeling that they would never know the answers for sure, and that was terrifying.  
Words like “never” carry a deep meaning to them. Although you may not fully understand it the moment you shout “I’ll never come back there!” after having a pretty disappointing meal at a restaurant, the real meaning of the word is still there, even if unnoticed. If people actually understood what “never” means, before saying “I’ll never come back there!” they would think about all the nights and days that were yet to come, all the friends they would make and lose over the years, and that one time at age 83 when their grandson would invite them to his birthday party at that specific restaurant and they would have to say no, because they promised they would never come back there.  
Now, maybe you can understand why they felt so devastated. The word “never” was hovering above their heads, even if they would not dare say it out loud.   
They had more cups of tea, Beatrice told them about that one time she bought coffee-flavored tea and got traumatized for the rest of her life, and Bertrand shared some ridiculously embarrassing stories from his childhood, the ones you usually do not mention unless you are desperate to make someone smile. It did not completely work though.  
Beatrice and Bertrand exchanged worried looks. They were determined not to let their friend be consumed by the word “never”.

Lemony did not know exactly how to feel about the idea of a picnic. The invitation had arrived some minutes ago, and he was still staring at it.   
Although he was willing to spend some quality time with some quality people while eating some quality food and discussing some quality themes, he was fully aware that most picnics happen on an open space where sunlight can hit both the food and the people. Of course there were exceptions, such as the underwater picnic he attended once, that happened on a submarine, but he was afraid this was not the case.  
After preparing some sandwiches -- he knew how he liked his sandwiches, he had a slight idea of how Beatrice liked hers, and he assumed that Bertrand, as a botanist, would like some extra salad --, Lemony grabbed his quite large umbrella and went outside because he needed to buy 1. some nice sweets, maybe cookies and 2. another quite large umbrella, just in case.

It was relatively easy to find Beatrice and Bertrand when he arrived at the park, they were the only ones that were trying to build a tent using umbrellas. Instead of saying hello, Lemony just stood there watching because it was, honestly, kind of funny.  
When they finally ran out of umbrellas, Lemony offered them his extra one.  
“Oh, thank you, Lemony”, Beatrice said, but then she remembered: “Goddamnit, Lemony has already arrived and we weren’t even able to finish this tent!”  
“It looks like it’s already finished”, Lemony answered, and it was true. The tent was made out of four different umbrellas -- he specially liked one of them that had a flowery pattern in it -- in a square-shaped arrangement, and they were partially buried on the floor so they could stand still. In the middle, where there had been a small gap from which sunlight could come, they had placed Lemony’s extra umbrella. Now, it looked like an adorable little house.  
“How long have you been standing there?”, Bertrand asked.  
“Not much.”  
“That’s not fair, it was supposed to be a surprise!”, Beatrice replied, as she tried to take the dirt off her hands.  
“It does look like a wonderful surprise. Who is it for?”  
Both of them looked at him as if he was crazy.  
“It’s for you, of course! Who else would it be for?”  
“We wanted you to enjoy our picnic without having to hold your umbrella all the time.”  
“It was Bert’s idea.”  
“But it was Bea who thought of burying them, a way better idea than the one I had in mind. Anyways, I think it’s quite safe and wait are you crying?”  
It did not matter how much Lemony told himself that it was immature and dumb to cry over it, he could not hold back his tears. He could not even remember the last time someone had done something so caring to him.  
“I’m sorry, I don’t even know how to thank you…”. He could not stop crying. People were starting to turn and stare.   
Beatrice and Bertrand did not expect him to be so emotional about it, so they awkwardly led him to the inside of his umbrella tent.  
“It’s like a tiny house, I could live in here”, he managed to say as he wiped his tears away.   
“No, you couldn’t. There are no walls, how would you change clothes?”, Beatrice said.  
“Also, there’s no fridge and you would die from starvation”. Bertrand had already found the sandwiches, and did not disguise his joy as he discovered two extra salad ones.  
After a while, Beatrice nudged him. Lemony thought she was trying to tell Bertrand not to eat everything they had brought, but apparently they had another subject to discuss.   
“So, we brought you here for a reason. Right, Bert?”  
They waited until Bertrand finished his cookie. Then, he said something that sounded like “yes, of course”. From inside the picnic basket, he took a box wrapped on present paper, and Beatrice took another. They looked like birthday presents.  
“You guys could have told me it was a special occasion I-”  
“It’s no special occasion.”  
“Yeah, we just wanted to give you some things we thought could be useful to you now that you’re in a... different condition.”, Beatrice said.  
“Also, I started working on a gift for you as an excuse to procrastinate on that new project and ouch stop nudging me, you were the one to tell me to be honest about my emotions!”  
“Not this kind of emotions, silly. Anyways, do you want to start?”  
“No, you can start.”  
Beatrice gave Lemony her present and waited for him to open it. It looked like a huge pair of headphones.  
“Well, I’ve been reading about the subject and it turns out many vampires develop more accurate hearing, which makes a lot of sense since that is how bats can see at night.”  
“Do you think I’m going to get blind?”  
“Actually, bats are not blind. Most of them can see pretty well during the day if they're not sleeping, so I don’t think you should worry about that.”  
“Thank you for the information.” He smiled. “What exactly are these?”  
“They’re ear protectors, the best I could find. Because a good hearing sure can be amazing if you want to go on a walk at night but it can be a real struggle if you’re trying to sleep for example, specially if you sleep during the day.”  
Lemony was flattered, and for a moment he thought he would start crying again.   
“That’s... that’s so kind of you…”  
“Come on, we should test them out!”  
Lemony put on his new ear protection that looked like giant headphones, and watched as Beatrice and Bertrand shouted their lungs out and the other people in the park looked more and more annoyed.  
He took them off as soon as they stopped.  
“Woah, they work surprisingly well!”  
“I’m glad they do, or else you would have heard us swearing and now things would be kind of awkward.”  
“You can’t be serious”, he answered. Though he could, with some effort, imagine Beatrice shouting swear-words on a park filled with people, he could not possibly imagine Bertrand doing the same. Even now that they knew each other, there was a small part of Lemony that still imagined him as a cloth doll.  
“I had no idea you were such a trashmouth, Bert!”  
“Thank you, Bea. That was quite a freeing experience, actually, we should do it more often.”  
“Sure, the three of us!”  
Lemony stared at them, slightly creeped out. You, dear reader, must be wondering: were they really shamelessly using bad language? Were they just lying to Lemony? If they lied, then what did they really say? Did they quote Shakespeare? It sure is a mystery.  
“Now it’s my turn!”, Bertrand said as he gave Lemony his present.  
After unwrapping it, he found out it was just a single orange inside a box. Bertrand, on the other hand, seemed excited.  
“And that’s what I call the blood orange! It took me forever to finish it.”  
“Don’t blood oranges already exist?”, Lemony replied, confused, while passing the fruit from one hand to another.  
Blood oranges did, in fact, already exist. They are a variety of orange which presents a dark crimson color on the inside, unlike most oranges, which color is not difficult to guess. Their reddish shade, though, has nothing to do with actual blood most of the times. Blood oranges usually turn red when they grow up in a place where the nights are relatively cold, like in temperate zones or a quite large fridge.  
Bertrand’s oranges, though, were not this kind of blood oranges.   
“I had been thinking about this since Beatrice told me about your blood-related problem. You told us that the idea of drinking blood did not please you-”  
“It’s disgusting!”  
“-because it’s disgusting, and Bea told me what an average vampire bat needs to drink each day. After we calculated it, it turns out you wouldn’t be able to survive only of blood even if you wanted to.”  
“Is it really that much?”  
“Unfortunately”, Beatrice answered. “Even if you signed up to a blood bank, it would be impracticable”  
“Oh…”  
“But anyways, you don’t need to worry about it. It took me a while but I did manage to solve your problem.”  
“The orange…?”  
“It’s not a common one. Now that it’s been modified, it can provide you most of the nutrients you could get through blood.”  
“T-this is incredible, I don’t even know how to thank you.”  
“You don’t need to thank me, it’s been an interesting project. Do you wanna test it out?”  
For a moment, Lemony had no idea what he meant, and just stared confused at the orange. Then he realized that he probably was supposed to try it.  
Instead of peeling it with a knife and then cutting the fruit into pieces, like most people would do, he buried both his fangs into it.  
“What does it taste like?”, Beatrice asked him.   
“Metallic, I guess.”  
“Good metallic or bad metallic?”  
“I like it.”, he said, and it was true. It did not taste exactly like blood, nor exactly like an orange, but it resembled both. Maybe he could use these blood oranges to make juice, or cake, or tea.  
“You could have just used a knife”, Bertrand laughed, looking at the two holes that Lemony’s fangs had left on the fruit and the dark red liquid that was dripping from them.  
“Let him enjoy the drama”, Beatrice said. She had just noticed that Lemony remembered to put black olives on her sandwiches. She had told him once that she really liked olives, and preferred the black ones over the green ones, but she never thought he would remember such a small detail.  
Lemony looked at the two people in front of him. Beatrice’s hair was falling over her face and she had bread crumbs from her sandwich all over her dress. Bertrand’s glasses were a little dirty, one of the buttons from his shirt had fallen off, and he had just barked back at a dog that passed by.   
But for a moment they looked like the most beautiful people in the world. He felt his heart get warm and his cheeks burn up as the realization suddenly hit him.   
“Can I give you both a hug?”  
They were taken by surprise.  
“Yes, of course.”  
It was an awkward kind of hug, not because they were three people instead of two but because the three of them had to fit under a small tent made out of umbrellas. But it did not matter at all. As he thanked them again for everything they had done for him and started telling them how they were the most intelligent and caring people in the world, he held them closer and hoped from the bottom of his heart that this was the start of something. Little did he know that both his friends had the exact same wish.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading my first fanfic ever! I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you had fun reading it as well!   
> (Special shout out to my friend Nick, I wouldn't have been able to post this without her help and support)


End file.
